I don’t know why I can’t govern my damned face!

She can! She does it so well.

That mask slips down,

those eyes are shuttered against the world,

the strong, beautiful woman who owns my soul disappears,

and the dark, unapproachable warrior returns.

I love her. There is no doubt of that.

She teaches me something new every day,

and each day she lets me into her heart a little more.

But this morning something happened.

A group of bandits attacked us,

before I even got to my feet,

she was fighting, a feral smile on her face .

before I even had time to lift my staff,

she’d killed four men.

I got to watch the whole thing this time, fascinated.

She exploded into action, parrying blows,

swinging her sword in one hand, chackram in the other.

It was over almost before it began.

She seemed to lose herself in the battle, and when she turned around,

the wild gleam was still in her eyes and I was afraid.

She saw the fear in my face and it shocked her.

Then the shutters closed over and she looked away.

She won’t talk to me right now; I have to wait until she’s ready.

Soon, perhaps tonight, she will thrash about in her sleep,

and cry out, caught in some horror-filled dream.

I will gently hold her as she weeps.

I will whisper the truth to her again.

I will try to make her understand

that I am never afraid of her.

I am always afraid for her.

6/28/2000